The Bat Needs a Cave
by VioletCheckers
Summary: The pressures of the Dark Knight finally get through to young billionaire Bruce Wayne. Of course, this can only result in a one way trip to Arkham Asylum. Jonathan/Bruce WARNING: Language and visual details
1. Crack

Title: The Bat Needs a Cave

Summary: The pressures of the Dark Knight finally get through to young billionaire Bruce Wayne. Of course, this only can result in a one way trip to Arkham Asylum.

Pair: Jonathan/Bruce

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Hair clumps littered the floor, newly broken coffee pot, leaking its contents onto the floor, along with a few new dents in the wall. Lately, normal sights to Bruce Wayne. Said billionaire bachelor was sitting, shrouded in the depth of a corner. Curled up, it was apparent that he wasn't what he said he was; 'Alright'. In three days, his life had gone from being Gotham's Dark Knight and his daytime Bruce Wayne act, to his entire world spiraling out of control. And thus, there he was, the by-night fearless borderline vigilante in fetal position, shaking and wide eyed, staring at the floor. Insane.

XXxxXX

Just another day, another few horrors. The young psychiatrist rubbed his temples, staring at the daily newspaper through his glasses. He took a sip from his coffee mug and sighed with a small tone of amusement. No new news about the Bat in two days. The only signs of the freak were rumors. Dead? No. Batman couldn't be killed off that easy. Left Gotham? No. Not possible. Never. Simply, done with Bats? That last possibility got him thinking. It was possible… There haven't been any signs of possibilities for the true identity of Batman. So that simple fact leaves one to expect that the man or woman… Jonathan felt himself shiver at the thought of Bat_man _being a woman… Responsible for the shady character _had_ to have to keep their original lifestyle, on top of being Batman. Possible insanity? He counted on it.

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Bruce screamed again as he slammed his fists into the walls of his living room for the seventh time that morning. Blood dripped down his arms from reopened cuts and tears on his knuckles. Scabs tore themselves open, making Bruce's eyes water. Along with the still unhealed Batman injuries and accumulated bruises, salty tears fell to the floor, mixing with the blood from his hands. He knew he was losing control of himself. His eyes stayed wide and body clenched. Occasional twitches would send spasms through an arm or a leg ever few minutes, as he panted, panicking sweat beading all over his skin. He bit the side of his lip, knowing he had no control anymore, scared and worried. He was alone, no one had come inside besides Bruce after Alfred had left. Apparently the stress of seeing Bruce come back bleeding and giving himself stitches was also too much for the old butler to handle as well. Alone and Insane.

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Feedback? ^^


	2. Wait a Second

Another Chapter for my newest fanfic category. Please, if something's wrong with how I write Batman, please, give me tippers! I can see ALOT more Bats coming your way from me, so I want to get good. Plus, there's always the self esteem factor…… Er…Enjoy. ^^;

Title: The Bat Needs a Cave

Summary: The pressures of the Dark Knight finally get through to young billionaire Bruce Wayne. Of course, this only can result in a one way trip to Arkham Asylum. Jonathan/Bruce

Pair: Jonathan/Bruce

Normal- normal

_Italics­_- Flashback

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Jonathan sat reclined in his chair, clicking around on his laptop. Before him on the screen, were all of the police files of inmates and suspects; therefore everyone in the disgusting backwater city of Gotham. A lone link in a report on Arkham caught his eye. They were two simple highlighted blue words; Wayne Enterprises. He clicked and it opened the main page of said corporation, adding another page to his already plentiful collection of windows, everything from mugshots to research documents. He scanned the page with hawk's eyes reading a whole paragraph in mere seconds, taking in all of the information on the page. After over fifteen years of incessant research in his studies, Jonathan's reading abilities were nearly inhuman. At the top of the page, an article told the 'heartbreaking' story of the Wayne family's past. He quickly read through, and was about to click another link, but stopped. He scanned the page again. From all of the information he drained from the internet so far, he found a motive. Bruce Wayne, the only heir to the Wayne Family fortune. His parents were shot by a common criminal in cold blood. Bruce-Child had been 7. Jonathan clicked on the highlighted name, leading to another page with a rather recent picture of Mr. Wayne. Jonathan went back through his initial checklist: Position, Resources, Motive, Time, and the obvious, Appearance. Motive: Revenge? Feeling the need to stop crime in every way, shape, and form? Check. He dug around through his memory, wrestling a detailed image of Batman out of his brain. All that was ever visible was the bottom half of the vigilante's face, therefore, that was all Jonathan had to identify by. He remembered…He thought he did…Before he had been sprayed point black in the face by his own toxin and the Bat's face was turned into a horrid green…monster…. He shook the thoughts away. The crime fighter's face looked…. He looked closer at the picture and he nearly burst out laughing. Jonathan clasp his hand over his mouth, face reddening, and put the other hand on the upper half of Bruce Wayne's face. Still having the mental image of the Bat, he put the two images over each other. He quickly copied and pasted the image to an art pad program in disbelief. He scribbled over the picture with black, ecstatic. He gawked at the left over eyes, mouth and chin.

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The upstairs was tore, broken and shattered. The downstairs had blood, coffee, water, alcohol of various compositions, and most of the furniture was in shambles. Holes and dents were in the walls. The study was the worst. The Piano was missing over half of the keys, and the strings connected to all of them were snapped. Books littered the floor, pages from all of them strew about. The false book case leading to the underground tunnels was torn from the wall. A slight path of blood droplets was visible leading into the elevator.

_Five hours ago, Bruce Wayne was fighting his way to the elevator, heading to the caves. Something down there called to him, but he never found it. That was at nine pm. Now at two in the morning, Bruce lay passed out, dried blood pooled at his head. His body was two feet from the elevator, whose chain was hanging, snapped in half at the rustiest link. _

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Jonathan was one hundred percent positive. Batman was Gotham's own Bruce Wayne. But, now that he knew, what should he do? Well, obviously, something was wrong if the Bat wasn't showing his mask to anyone. His dealing was going to skyrocket as soon as the Narrows get the news, and he honestly didn't want that. It was degrading for someone of his mental superiority to stoop that low. He saw a scientist, not one of the Narrow's common criminals. One thing was for certain: He had to see Bruce Wayne face to face.

Of course, he had to be brave enough to see the caped crusader who had kicked his ass time and time again in his own home. Jonathan cringed at the idea.

Another hour later, Jonathan Crane finally mustered himself up from the disbelieving puddle he had been reduced to after his discovery. He stood up, grabbed his burlap mask, and a good amount of toxin filled canisters. After another ten minutes of anxiety attacks and hand biting, he finally got the courage to emerge into the disgusting fog radiating from the foulest depths of Arkham and slide into the driver's seat of his dealing van Getting a slight high from the stale concoctions and chemical fumes in the back, his head started spinning, blurring his vision. SMACK. Now with a red mark forming across his face the psychologist started the van and pulled out. Thinking after fighting the dizziness for a few minutes, which he thought to himself he should've already gotten used to, Jonathan found his mask and slipped it on. After a few deep breaths, his vision came back and his head came to an aching halt. The trip to Wayne manor was going to be about forty five minutes. Jonathan looked to the radio which, surprising enough, still worked unlike everything, seemingly, else in the van. What had been last playing in the retro cassette player? With a speedy click, Jonathan turned it on with some revving and a painful screech of refusal. Jonathan yelped and swerved around on the empty four AM road. "God dammit….." Jonathan shook his head only to be cut off again by wailing guitars and girlish shrieking from the booking speakers. Jonathan shouted and screamed at the speakers at the top of his lungs, freaking out. The sight was positivelya _sight_ to anyone else seeing it: A swerving bouncing van with overly loud eighties rock and screaming from within, with the Scarecrow in the front seat. The pounding headache he got after he finally clicked the stop and the tape was completely destroyed was nothing short of a hangover. Of course, and as such headache-hangover settled in, the van only traveled another mile before it was stopped to the side and the psychologist was leaned over, spilling his stomach contents all over the road.

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Another Chapter done, another chapter to work on XD

R&R?


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